I'm going to make you proud
by BlueGryphon
Summary: Alanna's not previously mentioned youngest son Liam decides that he wants to go to Shang, mostly because he wants to do something different from his brothers and make his parents proud. Training, battles and stuck up Princes follow.
1. Default Chapter

A small red-haired boy bowed as he came into the study belonging to the Lord and Lady of Pirate's Swoop. He was a small, slender, with a stubborn cast to his features, and odd purple eyes.  
"Please Mama," he said, perfectly seriously. "May I go to Shang?"  
"Now Liam," his mother said, just as seriously. "It's a very big decision you're making. Are you sure this is what you want to do? I know that you want to be a warrior, and you certainly have a gift for it, but you could go to the palace to be a knight when you're ten, if you want. King Jonathan would be happy to have you there."  
"No Mama, that's not what I want to do when I'm older. I want to be a Shang."  
  
The copper haired woman sighed - the boy was as determined as she had been about becoming a knight, and if she refused, she knew that he'd run away and do it anyway, he was that sort of child.  
"If it's really what you want, I'll see what I can do. They don't normally take nobles, so don't be too surprised if they turn you down."  
"Thank you Mama, I'm really sure. It's the only thing that I want to do. I'll make you proud of me, I promise." 


	2. Chapter 2

Just over a week later, on a warm summer's evening, little Liam was dropped from a trader's wagon into a dusty field already scattered with small children, some as young as four. His governess had wanted him to be sent by carriage with an escort, but his father had refused. If Liam was going to be a Shang, he'd have to start the way he was going to continue.  
  
Liam looked to be one of the oldest there, although definitely not the biggest, since he could see one muscular boy in particular that would tower over him whatever age he was. He unconsciously pulled his fiery hair into a semblance of neatness as he saw a small man coming over to him. He was dressed very plainly in a simple black tunic and breeches coming over.  
"Ten and that's the lot of you," he said, smiling at Liam. "Thank you trader, may Mithras's blessing be upon you. Over you go, boy."  
  
Liam smiled shyly at him, thanked the trader, and ran off to join the rapidly growing group around a tall, dark skinned man in the same robe as Liam's visitor.  
"Over here please everyone!" the man was calling. "Over here, lad, that's it. Stand up, kid, you're here to work, not laze around. Now, you're Shang class one. Your names have been sent in by various soldiers, who all believe that one day you could all become great warriors, so work hard and don't disappoint them."  
"We won't, mister," said one boy, his voice betraying his origins as a street child, probably from Port Caynn if Liam remembered his father's lessons correctly.  
"You'll be living here at least until you're thirteen. That's going to be longer for some of you than for others, but if you aren't ready you'll stay here until we give up on you or you reach the required standard. After that, you go out into the world with a full Shang warrior to get some advanced training. Think of this as an apprenticeship, that as a journeyman period, before you become a master. You all share a barracks while you're here, and you'll train together in small groups. The Shang Rat is going to look after your class. When I call your names, go over to him. This is your very first roll call, so don't mess it up now. Martin Farrier."  
"Here sir," piped up a small boy. He looked very young, Liam wasn't really convinced that he was even four yet, although he knew that to be the minimum age just as seven was the maximum. He toddled over and trustingly took the Rat's hand. Then the man called out some more names.  
"Liam Cooper."  
"Here sir," Liam said, and followed the others over. At last, the huddle around the Rat was complete. There were nine boys there and one girl.  
"Now I'll take you to your barracks home," said the Rat. He had a nice voice, Liam thought, deep and sort of velvety. "When you've all had a chance to rest, we'll go and find you your uniforms, and after that you can have supper."  
  
He was speaking very gently and simply, and Liam appreciated that this was probably necessary with some of the younger ones, although Martin seemed to be far more intelligent than that.  
  
The barracks he took them to was stone, with a wooden floor. The bunks lined the two longer walls, with five end to end on each side. They were simple, a raised wooden pallet with a straw mattress on it. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as his special feather bed at home, in the bedroom he'd had all to himself. Liam took a bed at random and dropped the small bag treasures he'd been allowed to bring onto it. When everyone was busy, the Rat beckoned him over, although Liam couldn't think of what he'd been doing wrong.  
"You know and I know Cooper, that you were born a noble, but it needn't pass the two of us if you don't let it out yourself. Call yourself Liam Cooper after your father and you'll be all right, although with a name like that and your hair and eyes, I know that many of the warriors will guess who you are."  
"Yes sir."  
"I also know that you've been trained to respect ability and experience as well as birth, and that had better be the case. You have a reputation to uphold, son, and I will be expecting you to work as hard as anyone else, if not harder, because of who your parents are. Do you understand?"  
"Yes sir, I won't disappoint you."  
"Excellent, welcome to Shang, Trebond, I know you'll get on fine here."  
  
The uniform the Rat had mentioned earlier was brown, made of a coarse, heavy cloth. It consisted of a long, brown tunic worn over breeches of the same colour. The tunic had a thick white band stitched onto the left arm. That, they were told, was to show they were new. Everyone older than them had a streak of black running through the white - the thicker the strip of black, the better fighters they were. Journeymen still wore brown but had a black strip around both arms.  
  
At supper that night, Liam sat next a boy of about his own age. He was, well, ordinary was the only word he could find to describe him. The boy had brown hair, brown eyes and was of a normal sort of height and build for their age.  
"Hello," he said, not at all shy at being in a strange place. "I'm Gary, from Maren." He spoke in the language commonly used in both Tortall and in Maren, which was where the training camp was located. Liam spoke that as his first language, although he was also practically fluent in Carthak, Scanran and Yamani.  
"I'm Liam," he replied. "My parents live in Tortall."  
  
They were eating in a large hall. There were eleven tables there, seating ten each. Ten, Liam noted, seemed to be the standard size for a class. The Shang warriors took up two, the students filled the rest. There was one boy seated with the warriors who still wore the brown uniform, but he looked to be about the same age as Thom, Liam's fifteen-year-old brother. The food they were eating was plain, peasant fare, served on heavy earthenware plates, but it was filling, and far tastier than some of the so called delicacies that Liam had been forced to choke down in the past.  
  
After they'd eaten, they were sent straight to bed. To Liam's surprise, even the twelve and thirteen-year-olds seemed to be returning to their dormitories at the same time - he'd thought they'd be allowed to stay up much later. The curtains over the small, high windows were drawn and the children were left in darkness.  
  
Liam suddenly found thoughts of his roguish, funny father, his heroic mother and his mad siblings filling his head uncontrollably. He longed to be able to hear his mother come in to check on him or to have Thom creep in to talk about his latest crush to the one person who was always happy to listen. Tears flooded into his eyes, and he wiped them hurriedly away, ashamed of showing weakness when he was a warrior now, with a reputation to uphold.  
  
Liam concentrated hard about how he was going to become the greatest warrior the world had ever seen and managed to calm himself down. The boy on the next bed along didn't. He began to cry audibly in the silent room, and stifled sobs came welling up unwanted from many of the other beds as the boys weakness let down their walls.  
  
Feeling that he had to do something, Liam slipped out of bed and along to him. It was Martin, the baby of the group. He'd seemed cheerful earlier, but tired and lonely the events of the day were catching up with him at last. Liam sat down on his bed and Martin clung to him desperately like a lifeline. He was aware that his shirt was becoming soggy, but didn't really care. At last, Martin's sobs eased and he relaxed a bit. The others two had quietened again. Liam extracted himself from the boy's grip.  
"Think you can sleep now?" he whispered.  
"Y-yes I think so, but I have a headache!"  
"I'll be gone by the morning, so try and get to sleep, then you'll feel a lot better. Remember, we start training tomorrow, and we've got to be at our best for that."  
  
Liam slipped softly off the bed and tucked Martin in carefully. He grinned with satisfaction as he heard gentle snores from behind him even before he'd been in his own bed a minute. 


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Liam was woken early by the sound of someone hammering loudly and very antisocially on the barracks door. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and swung out of bed. The stone floor was very cold under his feet, so he dressed as quickly as possible and pulled on his sturdy leather boots. Then he stood there, not sure of what to do. Martin came wandering up.  
"Will you do my ties for me please? I don't know how." Liam sighed.  
"Okay kid, but you'll have to learn to do them for yourself. I'll teach you sometime, if you want."  
"Okay."  
"I'm Liam, Liam Cooper."  
"Martin Farrier."  
  
Just then, one of the oldest boys came bursting in. He looked around desperately.  
"Oh Mithros!" he swore. "And you're late already! Do your beds; quickly or there'll be all hell to pay. Come here, kid, and I'll tie you up. Its disgraceful at your age, not being able to put your clothes on yourself!" Liam turned and hesitantly made his bed, casting sideways glances at the others to see what to do. When at last everyone appeared to be ready, the boy looked them over.  
"Did no one tell you that we don't wear boots for exercises? Take them off and push them under your pallets, hurry!"  
  
Ready at last, they set off at a run to the training yard where they would begin their lessons. The older boy beckoned Liam over.  
"You older ones will have to help the babies until they've learned to do things for themselves. Its hard on you, I know, but someone's got to. Get another kid to do your bed, while you go around doing the little kids' ties."  
"Okay."  
"Good, run now, or you'll be late!"  
  
Panting heavily, he made it to the yard at the same time as Martin and the other very small boy. The older children were already there and working hard. Most were doing exercises, some were learning gymnastics and some were practising kicks and punches which were worked into short sequences. Shang class one stood there uncertainly, until one of the warriors - Liam thought it was the Rat, the one they'd met yesterday - came over.  
"I hope you're all feeling awake, everyone. Good, because today you start your training properly. Split into two training groups of three and one of four."  
  
Martin came confidently to stand possessively next to Liam. Gary came up with the one girl in their class. They both eyed Martin doubtfully, but didn't say anything once they saw him glaring at them.  
"Great, that's all worked out easily. You three go over to the Shang Wolf, over in the corner. You three go to the Shang Kestrel, she's by the fence there. You four can stay with me. Don't worry, we'll change groups and teachers as we get to know your standards and how fast you pick things up." The others went off to where the two other warriors were waiting, leaving Liam and his group with the Rat.  
  
"In case you don't remember, I'm the Rat," the warrior said. "Now, don't get any grand ideas, because all you're doing just now is exercises. They'll make you stronger, so when you start learning to fight you'll be faster. You won't be touching edged weapons for another year, probably, unless you're exceptionally good. This is the first thing for you to do." He demonstrated a simple press up.  
"Now you try. That'll do, but get your tummy in Gary. Is it hard work? It will get easier as you get stronger and fitter, so the harder you work, the easier it gets. The other one we'll do now is this." Now he showed them a sit up.  
"Do ten of each, and keep repeating it. I mean, do ten press ups, then ten sit ups, then ten press ups and keep going like that until you collapse. We've a full hour of nice exercises before we can go and eat breakfast."  
  
Liam groaned inwardly and crouched down to start. He managed two sets of each before his arms gave out and he lay sprawled on his back, exhausted. Gary and Martin were already resting. The girl, Liam didn't know her name, with her face bright red with effort, kept going for about five seconds after him.  
"Very well done," the Rat said to them approvingly. "That was really good for a first try, but you boy, Gary did you say your name was, are going to have to work much harder. You could easily have done another ten." Gary looked panic-stricken. The Rat grinned not entirely reassuringly at him.  
"Go for a quick jog around the yard to relax your muscles, then come back here and we'll try something else."  
  
Liam shook out each of his tired, aching legs and began to jog slowly around the yard, watching some of the older students with wonder. Some of the gymnastics they were doing, the speed of their punches seemed far beyond what he could ever hope to achieve. They were also much better even than most sixteen-year-old squires he'd seen at the palace. When he reached their corner again, he was told to stretch his muscles and then have a rest.  
  
After a short time, when they felt almost able to stand up, the Rat spoke to them again.  
"As a treat, and believe me this won't happen often, we'll finish our exercises now and move on to learn something else. This is one of the most important things you'll ever be taught, so pay attention. I'm going to teach you how to fall."  
"I do that often enough without being taught," the girl muttered. Liam hid a grin - he had a feeling the Rat wouldn't be too pleased with that kind of comment.  
"Oh good," the Rat said, smiling benevolently. Liam looked at him suspiciously. "You can show the others how to do it properly, since you're so experienced."  
  
Without any further warning, the Shang warrior took her hand and, with a smooth tug, sent her flying over his shoulder. She landed heavily on the ground with a thud that raised clouds of dust from the dry soil. Sympathetically, he extended her hand and pulled her up. She scowled at him.  
"Now shall we try it my way?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Thank you, and all of you remember in future, that Shang do things differently. If you've been taught how to ride by your parents, its likely that you will learn again, and still get it wrong. Hey Marek!" he called, waving at a boy on the other side of the yard, "Come here!" One of the older boys finished a somersault then left his tumbling and jogged over.  
"Show these youngsters how to fall."  
  
The boy nodded, and held out his hand towards the Rat. Again, the Shang warrior sent him flying, with seemingly no effort at all, but this time, the boy twisted gracefully in the air and landed on his front, slapping the ground hard as he hit. Instantly, he rolled over and came up onto one knee, ready to repel any further attack by an enemy or in this case his master. It didn't come, and the Rat nodded at him in approval. Then he turned to them.  
"Now, did you see that? While you're in the air, twist so that you land on your front, slap the ground as you hit, then come up onto one knee. That means that you stand a good chance of defending yourself against another attack. We'll show you once more, then you can try for yourselves. Again, the boy repeated his performance flawlessly, with the ease of long practice.  
"See now? Thank you Marek, you can go."  
  
Marek brought one fist to his chest in a strange salute and returned without question to his own work, beginning immediately where he had left off.  
"Liam," the Rat said. "You try first. Remember to hit the ground as you land."  
  
Somewhat shakily, Liam held out his hand and felt a strong pull. He managed, well, more or less, to turn as he saw the ground approaching him rapidly. A cloud of dust rose around him as he slapped the ground, landing heavily on one leg. He then attempted to roll up onto one knee as the boy had done, but only succeeded in getting tangled up in his own limbs. He ended up sprawled ungraciously on the floor. Gary grinned involuntarily, it was a funny sight.  
"That was excellent for a first try. We need to work on getting you safely up again though. Lie down and I'll take you through it slowly. Put you weight on your side, it doesn't matter which, and push round. That's it, now bring one knee up and there you are. Try that once more up to speed. Got it? Good, now you Gary. See if you can do as well as Liam has."  
  
Dusting down his front, Liam returned to join the other two while Gary managed to turn and even hit the ground, if only after impact, when it was useless to anyone.  
"Not bad," the Rat said gently. "But the idea is to hit the ground while you land, not after. For a first try, that was good. Now you, little one."  
"I'm not little!" Martin told him very firmly, with the confidence that only extreme youth can bring. "I'm almost as big as him!" He pointed at Liam, only two years older, who flushed. Looking at Martin, he realised that the 'tiny' boy was only about a finger length shorter than he was. Much to his and Gary's embarrassment, the four-year-old, once he started at last, landed almost perfectly then stopped, unsure of what to do.  
"That's very good, Martin. You older ones watch how quickly the young child can pick things up. Sarlie, you may try again, for learn this you must."  
  
The girl, her blond hair plaited neatly back from a lily-white face, stepped forwards sullenly. Sarlie hadn't meant him to hear her comment - quite the contrary in face. Silently, she tried her best, but never even managed to turn and landed heavily and awkwardly on her back. From where he was standing, Liam could see her face convulse in pain as she screamed. One by one, the other children, even the well disciplined older ones, stopped their work and stood, looking silently over at them. The Rat knelt hastily down beside her and checked her carefully over. Then he scooped her lightly and gently up in his arms and turned his attention to the rest of his group.  
"You boys keep working at your exercises. If I'm not back when the session ends, join the Wolf's group and follow his instructions until I return." Then he left, running towards the buildings. Liam and Gary, both shocked, looked at each other, then at Martin's white face.  
"Come on Martin," Gary said quietly, giving him a quick hug because he looked so close to tears. "Let's do our work, shall we? That'll take our minds off it."  
"Remember there isn't anything we can do to help Sarlie, but we can do our very best here," Liam added, trying to reassure himself at the same time. 


	4. Chapter 4

A few minutes later, they saw the youth from the warriors' table come sprinting out of the infirmary towards a building Liam thought was probably the stables. It took him ten seconds before he'd saddled a horse and rode out of the camp at a breakneck pace. Luckily, Martin did not notice anything, and by the time Wolf took them in for breakfast he'd calmed down a lot.  
  
Both the Rat and Sarlie were conspicuous in their absence. Liam choked down the nourishing but lumpy porridge and ate a few slices of the tasty bread. When he and most of the others in the hall had obviously finished, one of the warriors stood up and rang a bell hanging in the corner. Immediately, the chatter stopped, and the Shang students ran off, or remained behind, bustling to get the hall clean. A group of five boys came up to their table, where they were sitting uncertainly. They all looked about thirteen and appeared to be among the oldest of the students there.  
"We do chores now," one explained, seeing their puzzled looks. "We're put into groups, we call 'em sections. We're your group leaders. I take section one, I'm Stefan, and two of you are with me - Liam and Martin. The rest of you are split two each into the other sections. Come on boys, we're helping in the laundry today, and that's always hard work. Can you sew, either of you?"  
"My grandmama taught me when I was little," Martin said proudly. Liam grinned - little?  
"I can't," he admitted.  
"Don't worry," their section leader said. "You'll learn soon. Martin, go over and see what Marek wants you to do. Liam, check the clothes in this tub."  
  
In another half-hour, all of the clothes were pronounced 'clean enough' and hung out to dry just as the next bell sounded. One good thing about brown was that it didn't show dirt badly. Then Wolf shepherded their entire barracks to one of the stables that Liam had noticed earlier. Most of the animals here were quiet, placid ponies, meant to teach the small children the rudiments of riding before their moved on to riding larger horses.  
"How many of you kids have ridden before?" he asked. Liam cautiously put up his hand, thinking that he though he rode well by his standards, he wasn't sure what the Shang standards would be. So did Gary.  
"My father's a messenger for milord of Eagle's Reach," he explained.  
"Good, you two go through to the next stable, and saddle up any two horses you find there. I'll come and see you in a minute.  
  
Liam and Gary left and went through the next door along. The stable they now found themselves in had proper, full-grown horses in it rather than ponies. A group of older children were just leaving leading horses as they arrived.  
"Are there any spare horses we could use?" Gary asked one of them.  
"End two stalls ought to be free." They found the correct tack hanging on the wall and prepared for the Wolf's arrival.  
  
When he did finally arrive, he checked over every inch of their work before sending them out to join the group that they had just see depart. Liam had never actually ridden a horse before - an excitable pony had been quite enough of a challenge for him - but Gary seemed perfectly at ease.  
  
The lesson they now had was quite boring - just endless repetitions of drills. They trotted around this pole, in and out of these - kid's stuff really. At the end of the session, they were finally allowed to gallop. Liam found that this was much faster than anything he'd managed to achieve on his pony had been. As the horse swerved desperately to miss a tree, Liam went flying. He was luckily already facing downwards, so he managed to land properly. He then brushed himself down and went to catch his horse. Some of the others, nine and ten year olds by the look of them, were grinning. Liam didn't care - he'd fallen of millions of times before, and he'd no doubt fall of again in the future.  
  
When the session ended and the horses had all been carefully groomed, Stefan came running up to fetch Liam again. Didn't look anywhere near as tired as Liam already was.  
"We have fieldwork now, come one!"  
  
Liam stared at him in amazement - more chores? He had thought that they were here to learn to fight, not to learn to do every sort of work but that! The older boy caught his outraged look and smiled condescendingly at him.  
"It's easy enough. Would you rather do exercises or work to build up your muscles?" Liam thought back to his agonisingly difficult and exhausting session of the day.  
"Well, work I guess."  
"Exactly my point. It's also more useful - it teaches us how to look after ourselves properly, do stuff like mending our clothes and that sort of thing."  
"Oh." They'd just reached where the others were gathered waiting for them on the edge of a field  
"Now, today we've been asked to start digging up a patch of land that's been lying fallow for the past year. We'd better start with forks, fetch them from the shed over there. Any weeds you find remember to chuck them on the compost heap, which is over there at the moment. No excuses."  
"Okay."  
  
In reality, all that Liam had understood out of all that was that he had to dig up land with a fork, which he could get from the shed over there. He just hoped that they were bigger forks than the ones he'd used at dinner, because otherwise it was going to take a very long time. Luckily, he found a good, solid farmer's fork and began to churn up the earth, achieving very little for the amount effort that he thought he was putting in. The section leader ran up, looking totally exasperated with his new subordinate.  
"No Liam! The idea is to break up the earth, see? You're missing weeds as well." Liam decided it was probably better to ask, however embarrassing it would be.  
"What is a weed, exactly?"  
"You don't know what a weed is?" the boy asked incredulously "Oh, I guess if your people were fishermen or something you wouldn't. Well, it's any sort of plant that you don't want. In this case, chuck anything in there. Do you understand me properly now? Don't be afraid to ask if there's anything else you don't understand. Its far better to ask than for me to have to come over and explain once you've wasted a lot of time and effort."  
"Yes, I think I get it now. Break up the earth. All of the plants there are weeds. They go to the compost heap. Uh, what is a compost heap?"  
"It's a pile where you put stuff you don't want, then it rots and makes compost, which helps things grow."  
"Thanks."  
"Well, you get going again now. I'll check up on you again later, okay?"  
  
By watching the others' technique and copying it as best he could, Liam managed to dig a reasonable amount of land. He was embarrassed that he didn't seem to know many things that the others considered basic knowledge. By the time the next bell rang, his arms and shoulders ached, and he was all too happy to tidy away his fork and go to wash his hands before eating lunch. 


	5. Chapter 5

Lunch that day, and all of the other days as Liam quickly found out, was a simple meal. It was bread, mostly, with a little cheese and apples fresh from the trees. He eagerly piled his plate, as he discovered that all of the bread was newly baked and still warm from the ovens.  
  
After they'd eaten, the Wolf took them to a small room in the main building. There was a single large table in the centre of the room, filling most of it. On one side was a chair, on the other three were long benches.  
"Now we will start to educate you," the Wolf said. "We'll start today with reading and writing, which you must learn before anything else. How many of you can already read and write?"  
  
Liam put up his hand, as did most of the others over the age of six. Maren at any rate had compulsory basic education, so that was probably where they'd learned. The Wolf gave each of them a sentence to read from a book, then asked them to write down their name on a slate. The four boys did so, and the Wolf checked them over carefully. Then he said,  
"Yes, very good. Liam, Gary and Tomas go through to the next room on your left, and you can start on etiquette today. Josef, to the next room on your right and you'll be doing some more work on your handwriting. The rest of us will be starting reading. Don't worry, you'll soon have learnt, and then you can move onto the other lessons."  
  
Liam led the other two out, found the door and knocked politely. There was no answer, so he pushed it open. Five boys aged between about Liam's age and ten looked over at them from the table. One of the Shang warriors had taken their seat on the fourth side. She was looking at them inquiringly.  
"Uh, the Shang Wolf sent us." Liam began uncertainly, he'd thought she'd have been expecting them, since she must have known they were there.  
"You passed his test, then?" she asked. They nodded. "Don't' think you won't have to work again, because reading and writing is only the start of your education. Now, take seats with the others please. Today you'll all start etiquette. This means that if you ever end up at a court, you won't feel totally lost. Of course, all of the different lands have slightly different traditions that they follow, and you have to learn them all. We'll start today with Tortall. Tortall is ruled by a king, King Jonathan."  
  
After half an hour of solid work, they were sent next door to the Wolf again. He greeted them with a smile, and told them that now they'd be doing some more advanced work on reading and writing. They had to read a chapter from an old, boring book and summarise it. Liam had been very well taught academically and managed it without difficulty. He grinned cheerfully at the others in the class as he left. They had been told to report again to the training yard, and Liam was all to happy to do so. He was a warrior, not a scholar.  
  
The Rat still wasn't there, so his group was split up, Liam joining one of the other two groups, and Martin and Gary going to the second. Liam was with the Wolf again, who seemed to be one of the main primary instructors.  
"We'll start by warming up of course," he said cheerfully. "Do a lap of the yard please."  
  
Liam sighed and jogged off. When they returned, the Wolf led them through a series of stretches. Then, at last, he deemed them ready to begin.  
"What I'm going to teach you now, is called the First Drill, and its one of the most basic and effective things you'll learn. We'll go through it slowly first, then bring it up to speed. If I think you've learned it well enough by the end of the session, you can try using it against me, so you can see how it will work in combat."  
  
He first demonstrated it at full speed, then positioned them in a line behind him, so that they could see easily what he was doing. The first drill was a series of punches and kicks designed to drive back an opponent. This meant that they were also learning step by step how to punch and kick the correct way. By the end, the short sequence was properly engraved in Liam's memory, and he was using it comfortably enough on a set of pells that had been set up for them to work on. Before dismissing them, the Wolf said,  
"What you need to do now is build up some callus, that's hard skin, on your knuckles so it doesn't hurt to punch hard. What I want you to do, is to practice punching five minutes every night on your barracks wall. It will hurt at first, but you're all warriors, you can take it, and the harder you work at it, the sooner it will be painless to do. Don't even think about slacking, because I'll know."  
"Yes sir."  
"Now go to your meal." With a flash of inspiration, Liam brought his right fist to his chest, trying to copy the smart salute he had seen Marek do earlier. The others raggedly attempted to copy him. The Wolf smiled, and nodded approvingly. They were learning very well.  
  
After the meal, they had another session in the training yard. The Rat was back now, and was waiting for them where he had waited before, acting as though nothing had happened and nothing was out of the ordinary at all.  
"What did you learn this afternoon, Liam?" he asked, picking him out as the oldest in the group.  
"The First Drill."  
"Excellent, do you think that you can show me?"  
"I think so," he said. Although he was sure that he could, he wasn't sure about the other pair.  
  
Liam and Martin ran through the sequence without fault, although the younger boy went at a much slower pace. Gary tried, and obviously had the right idea, but he pivoted the wrong way, became muddled up and stopped.  
"A good attempt Gary," the Rat said encouragingly. "I know you're not picking things up quite as fast, but that doesn't mean you won't. Do your best, and you're sure to catch up. Different people learn differently, and Liam I know has already had some very basic training at his home."  
"Yes sir," Gary said disconsolately.  
"Martin, you need a lot more speed, and much more force in that, but you're doing very well. Liam, you need more force too, but I know that that's easier when you actually have something to hit. Anyway, in this session, we're going to do archery. This is the only sharp weapon you'll see for a long time, so I'd advise that you make the most of it. Come on boys, we'll go out to the archery range, which is around behind the stables."  
  
Liam grinned happily. He thought that he knew quite a bit about archery because he'd been hunting many times with his parents, and his mother had even been persuaded to show him the basics. However, although he was allowed to string the bow now, while the others weren't, he had to work on how he stood for the whole hour. It was even harder work than the exercises, and he hadn't even been moving!  
  
After that lesson, they returned inside for more lessons. Today, they began to learn Yamani, and Liam had his first geography lesson. Here they learned not only about the physical characteristics of the land, but also the history, traditions and social structure. It was a convenient way of combining subjects. At last, they were sent to wash in the cold pump water, then go to bed, exhausted and aching but learning what they'd come to learn. 


	6. Chapter 6

When Liam was woken again, very early the next morning, he was aching all over his body, in places he hadn't even known that it was possible to hurt. He also had a number of colourful bruises all down his front, in delightful shades of purple, blue, grey and brown. He dressed quickly, not wanting to be late again, and, when the whole of the dormitory was ready, ran off for his exercises. They went on much the same as they had the previous day. When Gary ventured a mildly irritated comment, he was told,  
"If you want to strengthen your muscles, you do the correct exercises for as long as you live. It's the only way to become a Shang warrior."  
  
The girl, Sarlie, rejoined their table. Her right arm was splinted expertly and bound very tightly across her chest. She was looking very pale, scowling and had dark shadows under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept all night.  
"I'm leaving," she announced, glaring at them as if they were going to contradict her. "I've got a broken arm already, and I don't want to kill myself in training like you idiots. No wonder there are hardly any girls here, we're far too sensible. You might want to reconsider too. How much are you willing to damage yourself on the chance that you might become a soldier? You do know that usually only half of a barracks actually become Shang warriors and the rest are sent home as failures, don't you?"  
  
Liam stared at her in amazement. She'd only just arrived, and she was quitting already! What a wimp. He'd broken his arm twice already back home, and his leg once, and he was still here. Warriors had to take injuries without complaint; it was one of the things that made a true warrior, in his view. When he thought about the time his mother rode for three days with a broken leg because she'd exhausted her Gift healing her men. She was a real hero.  
  
Liam was working in the kitchen today, as his first chore, because they rotated around so as to learn as many different jobs as possible. Marek noticed his puzzled, mournful look and understood immediately what he was thinking.  
"Don't look so depressed, kid. Honestly, I mean, if she's dropping out just because of a broken arm, she'd never have made it anyway, and the sooner she leaves the better. My barracks has lost three kids so far, and we're supposed to be a good year. You look like you have the guts to go all the way, so I wouldn't worry too much about it. Is your dad a soldier?"  
"Yeah," Liam replied, omitting the fact that his mother was a more famous one.  
"Well, you know what warriors are meant to be able to do then, unlike some of these greenies. Think about it, and you'll see that I'm right. You don't want a wimp like her at your side, wasting valuable training time."  
  
Marek himself was acknowledged by most of them as one of the most promising students that had been seen in years. He had a lot of empathy with people, as well as great martial skills, which made him seem even more impressive, and the youngest students hero-worshipped him almost as a body. He was sent out with a warrior for his journeyman period soon after that, on the very day that he reached his thirteenth birthday. Since that was the very minimum age, it was an excellent sign that the teachers agreed with their students about his capabilities.  
  
It was at about the same sort of time that another of Liam's barracks dropped out, one of the older boys. Liam was very surprised, because the boy in question had looked very promising, and he'd been sure that he'd go far. Still, maybe some people didn't love the work like he did, however hard that was to believe, and would rather be working in fields or apprenticed to carpenters.  
  
The next autumn, when the new training group arrived, Liam looked at them critically. They all seemed plump compared to his barracks. Their co- ordination was abysmal and he wondered that any of them could actually run looking at their shakiness. Even the oldest of them appeared much younger than even Martin, but that was probably because Martin had grown up a lot in the past year, because of over exposure to boys like Liam, and had been working hard all of that time. 


	7. Chapter 7

Six years later. . .  
  
Liam looked anxiously at his unruly hair in the shiny bronze mirror that had been propped up against the wall of their barracks. He was thirteen now, and had just completed the tests that he hoped would release him from the care of the training camp into the service of a warrior. Who that would or could be, he had no idea.  
  
The end of the week of tests had been marked by an arm-wrestling contest, which had been keenly entered by both warriors and students. Much to everyone's surprise, wiry little Liam had won - beating even the five times champion, the Wolf! Now he had been commanded to appear before the panel of resident and visiting masters of the Shang way. They were the ones that would decide his future status. Since he was the youngest to have taken the tests, having only had his birthday a month ago, he was also the last one on the schedule to appear before them.  
"Liam!" a boy called, putting his head around the barracks door. "You're next - Jimmy just went in. Hurry up, or you'll be late!"  
  
Liam waved his thanks, gave his hair a final glance and jogged over to the hall where they were meeting. After what seemed like ages, another boy came out. Liam took a deep breath and went in. He stood solidly in front of the table behind which the ten warriors were sitting. The adults were all wearing their full black uniforms, and looked very formidable, but he was determined not to show any nervousness.  
"Liam Cooper, we here attest that you have successfully attained to the honoured rank of Shang journeyman," the Rat said proudly, beaming at his prize student. "To mark this gain in status, you have the right to choose a name to add to your own. If you have no preference, this will be given to you according to your prowess in the trials. Make your choice."  
  
Liam apprehensively crossed his fingers behind his back, and said boldly,  
"If it please you, sirs, I would aspire to be called Liam Ironarm, because of my result in the arm wrestling contest that has just been held." That caused a stir, and no mistake. The last man who had born that title had also been called Liam. Liam Ironarm, the famous Shang Dragon, had died in battle during King Jonathan of Tortall's coronation. Whether the panel knew it or not, he had also been a friend of Liam's parents, and his namesake. After a lot of whispered discussion, the panel made their decision.  
"We grant you the right to bear this ancient and honourable name. It is the belief of this panel that you will bring credit to it. The Shang Eagle has requested that you enter his service and study from him. Is this satisfactory, Liam Ironarm?"  
"It is sir, thank you."  
"Then leave with the blessings of Mithras, Ironarm." Liam brought fist to chest in the Shang salute, spun smartly and left.  
  
The other three new graduates were waiting just outside the doorway for him to join them. Gary, a year or so older than Liam, might have been among them, Liam thought sadly. Unfortunately, he hadn't made it too this stage, unable to keep up with the others. He'd returned to his home, quite happy to leave, and had said that he was considering joining the officer corps of the army as soon as he was old enough. Until then, he'd be running messages for his father.  
"Well?" Liam's friend Jimmy asked.  
"Liam Ironarm at your service, my lords," Liam said, bowing theatrically. He straightened proudly, "Journeyman to the Shang Eagle Warrior."  
  
The boy whistled under his breath in surprise.  
"Very impressive, Liam. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that Eagles are only one rank below the Legendary Beasts, aren't they? I'm Jimmy Hardhead, serving the Shang Hawk. The Rat came up with that one, he's the only one with that sense of humour. I think its because of that time when he hit me in the head, I went head over heels, then stood up and kicked you in the stomach. Do you remember that? That was the last time I beat you, I haven't managed it since."  
"Of course I do, you surprised me as much as Rat when you got up again. What about you others?"  
"Stefan Seaheart, with the Ferret," said the only kid in the compound who could swim like a dolphin. They'd found that out during an expedition to study tactics when defending against a landing, or attacking a moored boat.  
"Dimak Frost, and I'm going with the Hound," said one boy, who was notorious for his cool temper.  
"Josef Flinteyes," the last one said, his steely grey eyes looking as dull as ever. "My master is the Leopard."  
  
Liam congratulated them all, knowing that they'd all done remarkably well to be assigned to warriors who were very well respected within the brotherhood of Shang. He then went off to pack, expecting to leave very soon. There wasn't much he needed to take, since he hadn't had time to accumulate any personal belongings, and indeed had been encouraged not too. He'd have to bring two sets of ordinary brown uniforms, and put a prized portrait of his parents into his small bag too. Other than that, the only thing he could think that he'd ever need was a set of smart clothes for formal wear, especially at court, which he'd be given later. Weapons went without saying of course, and they were all neatly polished and stowed away.  
  
Martin, now ten, came running in just as he finished. He was looking comfortable even after his sprint, supposedly from the training ground.  
"Rat said to tell you that the Eagle wants to leave straight after lunch, and that you have to be ready for then."  
"Thanks kid," he said, then grabbed Martin by the shoulders and looked at him. "I'll miss you, Tino." He hugged the only brother he'd had since coming here. Over the years, their friendship had developed so that they were closer to each other than to family that they hadn't seen since their arrival.  
"You deserve to go," Martin said stoutly. "You're by far the best in the training camp. Everyone says so."  
"That's only because I'm older than most."  
"There's some boys who're fifteen still here, and you're way better than them. I've heard the warriors say you're good. I just hope I do as well as you when my turn comes in another three years."  
"You could easily do better, Tino, after all, you'll have had more years training."  
"But I don't have your talent. Come on, let's go eat." 


	8. Chapter 8

Liam supposed he must have eaten lunch, although he couldn't remember it, just because he'd been trained to eat proper meals when he could. When he was done, he said a collective goodbye to everyone in the hall, then shouldered his pack and walked out to the main gate. A tall man was standing there.  
  
As Liam approached him, he turned and looked down at the short boy. He had dark skin, and a sharp nose. His eyes were peat black and he wore a simple burnoose on his head. Liam thought that he was probably a Bazhir tribesman by birth, but of course, he was still relatively inexperienced at judging.  
"I am Hassam Firesoul, the Eagle," the man said. "I am of the Bazhir tribe of the Bloody Hawk."  
  
Liam smiled inwardly but kept his face solemn as he replied,  
"Greetings to you sir. I am Liam Ironarm, from the kingdom of Tortall."  
"You are the son of the Shining Brightly One? She who slew the Nameless ones?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Very well. Is this a well known fact?"  
"No sir. I have been going under my father's name, and none of the children are of the Tortallan nobility or commoners from my parents' estates. I believe the masters do know - they are so widely travelled that it would be hard to conceal it from them. My eyes are somewhat distinctive."  
"That is true. I shall name you Liam Cooper then, if it is ever necessary. You are ready to leave, I assume. That is good, we can begin immediately. We will be travelling on foot, rather than riding as many warriors choose to. For a Bazhir, I am a disgraceful horseman. On foot, you also attract less notice. We go first to Tyra. We have been employed as bodyguards for the Crown Prince of Tyra. You know how to behave in a court, I suppose?"  
  
"Yes sir, although I haven't been to Tyra, just to Corus."  
  
"I had not expected you to be well travelled yet, although by the end of your journeyman years I can assure you that you will be. The Prince is travelling on almost immediately after our arrival to the Yamani islands. It is supposed to be educational to him, although we're probably designed to be the education. The Yamani warriors are excellent, you will learn a lot from them."  
"Like using a glaive?. I've wanted to learn, but no one at the camp felt that they were good enough to teach it."  
"I'm sure they will learn if you ask. Do you have weapons with you?"  
  
Liam looked at him disapprovingly. Did he think that Liam's training had been incomplete? Was it that he just looked too young for thirteen? As every student knew, a Shang was never without weapons; he was a weapon. Besides, only a first year student would leave the camp without at least a dozen weapons concealed on their person.  
"Yes sir."  
"What?"  
"My sword and my bow are easily accessible. I have daggers in my boots, on my belt and in the strap of my pack and there's a throwing knife concealed in each of my sleeves."  
"Very good. You also have your walking staff, and that can be used as a weapon."  
"Oh, yes," Liam acknowledged, feeling stupid not to have remembered that.  
"Don't worry, you'll learn. You're also good unarmed, I suppose?"  
"Of course."  
"Excellent, let's leave now then."  
  
* * * *  
  
Their journey would lead them right across Maren, through some of the small state of Tyra to the port that shared its name. It was an educational walk. Liam had become totally unaccustomed with dealing with anyone outside the strict discipline of Shang, where everyone had their place and there was no free time to spend playing.  
  
One day they passed through a small village, Rivervale. It was a standard sort of place, like many others that were scattered around the lands like wheat in a field.  
"This is Rivervale," Hassam told Liam. He made a point of telling him about every place they went through as his education, and his training took place before they left on their journey every morning and every evening when they stopped. "Two main jobs here: fishing and farming. Small place, but it has an inn, a carpenter and a tailor, who doubles as a sail maker for those who can afford it."  
"Sir, can we stop here for a minute." Hassam looked at him, following his gaze to where some children were playing kickball on the scrubby piece of grass by the side of the road. He smiled.  
"Of course. We will have lunch in the inn, come in when you're ready. We can train afterwards before we start again."  
"Thank you sir."  
  
When his master had gone inside, Liam walked off the road and put down his pack. The boys, ranging from about his own age downwards, stopped playing and looked at him.  
"Can I play?" he asked shyly. They glared at him.  
"What're ye doin' 'ere?" one asked roughly.  
"Passing through with my master," Liam said, perfectly truthfully. "We're heading for Tyra."  
"What's he then, a messenger? Some murderous bastard mercenary?"  
"He's a Shang warrior," Liam told them calmly. Losing your temper was a sure way to lose a fight, unless you were an ill-trained berserker who had nothing else to rely on. They looked at him, scared, even though he could pass for one of them, wearing rough brown clothes that had seen better days.  
"Yer sort ain't wanted 'ere. We ain't got no trouble, and we don' want none neither. Eat yer meal, if that's what yer gonna do, then push off."  
  
Liam looked at them, then nodded silently and left. They watched him go, shouldering a pack that a grown man would think twice about lifting. It was the newest part of his training. He'd got his callus on his feet now, so he was carrying both Hassam's and his own belongings to improve his stamina.  
  
It was easy enough to find the rundown building that served the village as an inn and lousy drinking hole. Hassam had taken a table by the door, away from the bar with its usual drunkards and the smoky fire. Liam propped the pack up against the wall and came to sit down.  
"What happened?"  
"They told me to push off," Liam said roughly. "That they didn't want fighters in the village."  
"And did you retaliate?"  
"No sir, I came straight here."  
"Why?"  
"Because a Shang warrior does not incite conflict, he avoids it at all cost," Liam recited. "He will fight at the command of a senior member of the brotherhood, of a king whom the brotherhood supports or to save innocent people from harm. He never fights for his own gain, even though he may accept a fee, whatever is not required for living costs will be sent to the training camp where children will benefit from it. A fight without honour is worse than doing nothing."  
"That's enough. Well done Liam. It's a sad fact that warriors are almost universally distrusted in Maren, and even in Tortall sometimes. The difference is that Tortall's warriors are all kept under close check by the crown and are trained to fight honour, but in Maren there are far more freelance mercenaries stirring up trouble. You'll get used to it in time." 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: nice long chapter (for me, anyway) = lots of reviews ::smiles hopefully::: Please review, now enjoy!  
  
Tyra, when they came to it at last, was a great, bustling city (although not so large as Corus, Liam noted with a certain amount of pride). The streets were packed full of merchants and traders crying out to sell their wares, of men hurrying to work and of women going about their daily tasks.  
"Here we are, Liam, Tyra," Hassam said, waving his arm at the city gates. "You ready for it?"  
"Yes," Liam said, mock grumpily. "I've got blisters and my legs are aching. So are my shoulders, and that's your fault for making me carry the pack."  
  
"Stop whining, baby, and tell me how you'd attack this city, if you were commanded to."  
"Yes sir. Well, does the wall extend all the way around?"  
"Yes, in exactly the same condition. There is another gate identical to this one on the other side of the city."  
"Thank you, and no cover?"  
"None."  
"Um, am I allowed mages?"  
"No."  
  
Liam groaned. If there was one thing his teacher seemed to enjoy about these hypothetical assignments, it was making them as hard for him as possible.  
"Okay. There isn't an overhang or anything, or arrow slits - so I assume the wall is either quite old or poorly designed. The gates are made from iron, so that's not the most sensible way in. What men do I have?"  
"One hundred Tortallan knights, a thousand foot soldiers - fifty of these with pikes, the others with swords. Then, let's see, you can have one company of the Tortallan King's Own and five hundred archers. Think you can do it?"  
"Yes sir. My archers set up a barrage on the walls, shooting anyone who dares to show their head. Later on, they'll shoot fire arrows over the wall in the hope of causing a fire. My knights will wait in reserve, just out of bowshot, in case they sally out. Meanwhile, my foot soldiers will construct scaling ladders and siege towers. We'll attack at night with them and attempt to take them by surprise. However, with one thousand soldiers supported by archers, we shouldn't encounter any problems. The first objective will be to open the gate and let the knights in. At that point, the city is ours."  
  
"Very good, although you might have a little more care about your casualties."  
"Hey, I let them attack at night."  
"With no diversions at the time."  
  
"What are my archers then, spectators?"  
"Shut up Liam, you're losing your temper again. That was very well done. When we get to Yaman, you can try again. That ought to pose more of a challenge to you. Let's go in now, they'll be expecting us at the palace."  
  
The two Shang warriors walked confidently up to the gate, where they were stopped by a pair of city guards, looking languid and undisciplined compared to a good number of the specialist units Liam had studied in his training. "Names, and business in the city, man," one demanded. Liam sighed - they obviously had a puffed up sense of their own importance if they were using a line that clichéd. Hassam looked unmoved by this show, and answered calmly,  
"Hassam Firesoul, the Eagle, a ranked master of the Shang warriors. I am employed at present as personal bodyguard to his Highness, Prince Jerlan of Tyra."  
"And the boy, warrior?" he was asked, now perhaps with a grudging respect.  
"My journeyman, Liam Ironarm of Shang. He is entering the same employment."  
"Welcome to Tyra, followers of Shang are always honoured visitors here."  
"We thank you for your courtesy."  
  
Hassam smiled amiably at them, and led Liam inside without another word. They walked along the main cobbled street, wending their way through the crowds of people. No one took any notice of them, a man and a boy in tough brown and black peasant clothing walking and carrying a single pack between them. Suddenly, Liam's hand shot out sideways like a pouncing snake and caught onto the wrist of a ragged street boy.  
"Give it back, kid," he said roughly. The boy he had caught, about Liam's age or maybe a bit younger, glared daggers at him. Very reluctantly, he handed Hassam's purse to Liam.  
"Next time, I'd advise you to pick your target with more care. Spread the word that if we are targeted from now on, I'll complain to my father."  
"Oo's 'e then, some toff who's never done an honest day's work in his life?"  
"Well, he's never been completely honest, but he's George Cooper, boy, and I won't tolerate any disrespect. If you don't know his name, I'm sure his highness will be very interested to hear of your rudeness and ignorance."  
  
The boy scowled at Liam, then snatched back his hand and darted off through the crowd and into a narrow, shadowy alleyway. Liam knew better than to try to follow him.  
"That was well done Liam, although I'm curious as to how you knew what he was up to?"  
"My father had an interesting youth. He'd be ashamed of me if I couldn't spot a common pickpocket like that after all of the training he gave me. By the time I came to Shang, I could pick pockets better than most who live by it, and I was starting on buildings. He took a copper from your pocket too, sir, but I let him have that. It's a hard life, when you're a bad thief, and trust me he was useless."  
"That was well managed. He did look as though he could use a decent meal. Who's the man called 'his highness'? It's not Prince Jerlan, surely?"  
"Of course not. The thieves have a system of rank, the best thief in each country being counted as royalty. Tyra's only a very small state, even if it is independent, so the ruler of its thieves is only counted as a prince. My father was the King of the Thieves in Tortall."  
  
Very soon they came to another wall and a smaller gate. Liveried palace guardsmen, who looked far more effective than their city counterparts, lined the ramparts. The guards at the gate asked courteously for identification. Liam watched, fascinated, as Hassam held out his right hand, palm up. He caught a glimpse of something, maybe a tattoo, maybe a brand, on the palm. On seeing it, the men saluted and stepped aside to let them through.  
  
A servant rushed up to them as soon as they got in, wringing his hands desperately.  
"Excuse me, great warrior," the wretched man said, almost grovelling, "But his Highness commands that you come now to his chambers without delay." Liam restrained a snort, looking at this plump man in his fancy court clothing - he'd noticed that even the servants here were well dressed - was worrying probably only about his master's displeasure, while there were people dying out there. Hassam looked equally amused but said kindly,  
"Calm down, my good man. We'll go to him directly. Would you be kind enough to guide us there, I fear we are still strangers to this magnificent palace."  
  
They were led through carpeted corridors. Huge portraits lined the painted walls, but Liam still found it easy not to gawk like a country boy. This was nothing compared to what he'd seen in Tortal since he was a baby. At last, the servant pushed them hastily through an ornate door into an antechamber before vanishing again. The guard there asked them their names. He then swung open another ornate door and announced loudly,  
"Hassam Firesoul, Eagle of Shang; Liam Ironarm of Shang, bodyguards to his highness, the great Prince Jerlan the Compassionate of Tyra."  
  
Restraining laughter again, Liam and Hassam strode in step through the doorway, eyes downcast before royalty, and knelt on one knee before the throne, heads bowed.  
"You may rise, men," the prince told them magnanimously. Liam needed no further prompting. He stood up smoothly and looked his new employer in the eyes for the first time, smiling slightly at the familiar flinch when they encountered purple.  
  
He was a young man, not much older than Liam actually, maybe sixteen years of age, no more. He wore his chestnut hair just brushing his shoulders and had cultivated a small moustache that quite frankly made him look like the useless, foppish boy that Liam saw him to be. His clothes were, naturally, the best that money could buy, and studded liberally with jewels.  
"So you are the new bodyguards my father hired for me," Prince Jerlan said disdainfully. "I have to say, you don't look much for what you're supposed to be. The boy will be tested against my guardsmen, and if he doesn't perform well enough, you will be evicted from the palace immediately."  
"Of course, your highness, that is very wise," Liam said innocently. "What weapons would you prefer? The choice is yours, naturally. Would you like to specify, or just say freestyle? I will, of course, abide with your wishes."  
  
Jerlan looked at him suspiciously, not quite sure he was quite so subservient as he looked.  
"Swords, of course, rapiers. It's a gentleman's weapon, so I doubt you have any proficiency with it at all. All of my guardsmen are trained with it."  
  
Liam flushed angrily, and glanced questioningly at Hassam. The man nodded slightly, an almost non existent smile playing at the corners of his mouth.  
"I apologise if you have been labouring under a misconception, Highness," Liam said with impeccable politeness and a slight bow. "But I am not and have never been common born. Indeed, the very idea is preposterous. My father is Baron of Pirate's Swoop; my mother rules in Trebond and is heir to the fief of Olau. She is also the King's Champion of Tortall, and I believe I have been named as cousin to his Majesty, King Jonathan of Tortall. My family has been in the Book of Gold since the beginning."  
  
The prince looked somewhat taken aback at the so called ragged peasant boy claiming such a prestigious heritage. He gestured imperiously towards the door, perhaps not trusting himself to speak without embarrassing himself further. The two Shang bowed, backed out and left with great relief.  
  
"The stuck up prig," Liam muttered to himself. He was very touchy about his personal honour, and the prince had rubbed him entirely the wrong way. Hassam grinned indulgently at him, sharing his feelings exactly.  
"Why do you think his father hired us rather than some court toadies? I assure you, it wasn't for our looks. The boy's only going to the Yamanis, and their a friendly court with stupendous warriors. No doubt he'll command me to teach him sometime during the visit, having got bored with abusing his servants, and then you have my full permission to thrash him thoroughly, all for the good of his education, of course. Then he might just be civilised enough to instruct safely without my killing him first."  
"Of course sir," Liam said, smiling broadly at that. Neither of them had any use whatsoever for court fops who'd never worked in their lives, and the prince certainly fit that description.  
  
The ordered matched was arranged for early the next day. Liam turned up at the assigned practice court early and began to warm up. The prince arrived later, at a so-called civilised hour, with the captain of the palace guard and a young man who wore his sword awkwardly at his side and whose livery was still slightly big for him.  
"Captain Dernholm of the palace guard will see to it that you meet the standard. This is Liam of Shang, Dernhold. Report to me when you're done."  
"Aye, your highness. I'll see to it."  
  
The prince left abruptly. The captain rolled his eyes at the young soldier, who looked embarrassed.  
"His highness, Prince Jerlan, the biggest idiot ever to stand in line to rule the city. Please Mithros I'll be dead by the time that happens. Now, I'm Dernhold, you're Liam and this is Florin, our newest recruit. Be easy on him, he's only just learning and, unlike his highness I know your reputation's completely true and unexaggerated. I'd like a nice fair match now, just swords, young Shang, as his bigheadedness ordered for you."  
"Sure sir," Liam said brightly, liking the soldier already. "Ready when you are, Florin."  
  
After a few nervous and uncomfortable stretches, the young recruit lined up uneasily opposite Liam. His grip on his sword, as far as Liam could see, was tight an awkward. Liam saluted him politely, then they crossed swords and began. Liam could tell from the start that he easily outmatched his opponent, just as the captain had predicted. Florin seemed to know it too, and within a minute, he'd been disarmed. They looked at each other tensely.  
"I yield," the guardsman conceded, and Liam lowered his sword. "You're amazing, and only a boy yourself."  
"You're not much older, Florin, just a couple of years as I remember," Dernholm said pointedly. Florin flushed bright red. "But it happens that I agree. You could have beaten most of my men, lad. You're welcome to train with us any time you want, aye, and your master too, if its his pleasure."  
"Thank you sir." 


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Okay, sorry this took so long, I had a German exchange staying with me for a while, and that's effectively banned me from the computer. Unfair, huh? Well, here it is, at last, I hope you enjoy it.  
  
The ship they were to be sailing on left from the docks early the next morning. Prince Jerlan, much to Liam's surprise, was only accompanied on his journey by his two Shang bodyguards and a single sober valet old enough to be his father. This had all happened on the orders of the prince's father; it was definitely not Jerlan's own decision. Needless to say, he wasn't too happy about it and was making his displeasure known to all of them.  
  
Very shortly after they'd left the gentle waters of the harbour and passed the twin watchtowers guarding the approach to the city, Liam staggered over to Hassam. He was having problems walking, as the deck swayed this way and that.  
"I feel sick, sir," he groaned loudly, his face a shade of green that definitely didn't complicate either his hair or his eyes. Seasickness, as he knew, ran in the family.  
"What, already?" Hassam asked, seeming surprised. He, of course, was perfectly happy, running through his drills with the same vigour as usual. "This is as nice weather as we could have hoped for, at least for this journey. We won't be doing any training with edged weapons until we reach port anyway, its too dangerous, so I'm just going to ask you to do your best with the exercises. I know I don't have to explain to you how important they are."  
"Yes sir," Liam gasped, and sprinted as steadily as he could for the side of the ship.  
  
The prince, only a few years older, looked on scornfully as Liam emptied his stomach over the side. He had been in and out of boats all of his life, it was deemed a necessary part of his education since Tyra's main military focus was its navy. So far, he'd stayed as far apart from his 'servants' as was physically possible on such a small ship as had been assigned to them for the journey.  
  
Liam was very glad when the long, tedious journey ended and they disembarked. He had been seasick all the way, felt awful and was definitely looking forwards to being able to eat and keep down his first meal in days. A Yamani official, some minor noble, met them on the dock and escorted them to a suite of rooms in the palace. Alas, they contained only one bed, and naturally that was intended for Prince Jerlan. Hassam, who had obviously been expecting this kind of treatment, shrugged and placed his bedroll by the door of the bedchamber, motioning for Liam to do likewise underneath the single large window.  
  
Satisfied at last, he looked at Liam,  
"Come on now," he said. "You need to train, you're hopelessly out of condition. I will guard for now."  
"Yes sir."  
  
Liam saluted him smartly and wandered off. After asking directions many times - it was a very good thing that he wasn't and had never been shy - he finally arrived at the training grounds. The Emperor's samurai warriors, the elite of his army, were out in force, all training hard. It reminded him of the training yard back at the camp, although all of these warriors were adults, or at least youths. One of them saw him standing in the entrance and came over, looking amused and irritated by the intrusion.  
"Are you lost, little one?" he asked, smiling down at Liam. The Shang boy sighed, there were definite disadvantages to being so small - he looked about ten or eleven, not his actual thirteen years. Still, he'd have to answer.  
"No sir, I was looking for this place."  
"Just come to watch us, huh?" the man said, obviously feeling very impressed by his own skill. Honestly, give a man a fancy sword and he put on airs that should make a prince blush! "I'm sorry, little one, but no spectators allowed."  
"I'm not a spectator sir," Liam replied, working hard to keep a reign on his famous temper. "I'm here to train. We've just arrived from Tyra."  
"A likely story." Liam inwardly groaned. Did this man think that children only started training at eighteen? Even Tortallan knights started earlier than that. "Return to your nurse, son, and don't bother us again please."  
  
Liam sighed. It looked as if he was going to have to prove himself, yet again. Really, it was starting to become a habit now, he was almost wishing he'd stayed back at camp until he started to look considerably older.  
"I'll challenge your best man," he said boldly. The man laughed and called,  
"Nuriyo! This boy here wants to challenge you. He says he's a great warrior from Tyra, come to visit us."  
  
Another man came over to them. He was taller than most Yamanis, muscular and moved with the grace of a prowling tiger.  
"Cease your prattling, fool, and return to your training. It is not your place to make judgements."  
"Sorry Nuriyo."  
"You act more like a sakuro sometimes than a full samurai warrior. Now son, are you sure about this, you might get hurt? I'll do my best, but accidents happen."  
"Of course I am sir, I wouldn't be foolish enough to suggest it if I couldn't accept the consequences. What weapon would you prefer to use?"  
"I have no preference, shall we say that anything goes? It might be hard for you. . ."  
"If you wish sir, I'll be fine. Just give me a few moments to warm up."  
  
Liam did some quick stretches and presented himself calmly in the ring that had been formed by the curious soldiers. After much thought, he'd decided not to take any weapon with him although his opponent, a seasoned veteran, was armed with a curved scimiter, deadly for an amateur to use, deadly to have used against you by a professional such as this soldier.  
"Lad, you'll need a weapon, surely," he pointed out indulgently, appearing unwilling to hurt an unarmed child however rude said child had been.  
"I'm fine without, thank you sir," Liam replied curtly and bowed to his opponent.  
  
That was the recognised sign for combat to begin and there would be no further discussion and no thought of backing out. When the man attacked, Liam flipped neatly over the blade, hitting his opponent solidly in the chest with his feet, following through to put a hand on his neck. Liam held him there for the full five seconds, then stood up calmly and bowed again.  
"Do I have your permission to train here now? I believe I have proved myself sufficiently."  
"Certainly," a man said, stepping forwards into the ring. He wore the silver star of a commander on his black tunic. "Tell me boy, who are you?"  
"Liam Ironarm sir," Liam replied, taking care to be impeccably polite. "Journeyman to the Shang Eagle and in service at present to Prince Jerlan of Tyra."  
"Oh, that would explain a number of things. You are a great credit to your master. It is a pity though - I would have sworn you to the emperor faster than you could blink. You are welcome to train with us during your stay here, as is your honoured master should he wish to join you."  
"Thank you sir, that is very generous of you. I . . . uh. . . would you teach me to use a scimiter properly sir, because I've always wanted to learn and there wasn't anyone back at the camp who said they could teach me properly."  
"If you wish to learn, I will ask the Training Master to instruct you," the commander said, looking respectfully at a boy with such enthusiasm and dedication. "Now, would everyone please return to their work." The men bowed to him, acknowledging the implied command, and resumed their training where they had left off to watch the fight.  
  
After a very satisfying practice, Liam returned to their rooms filled with energy.  
"Sir, we can practice with the Emperor's soldiers whenever we like now. I was looking for a place to train, but they wouldn't let me use the court until I beat their best man," he told Hassam exuberantly, thrilled with his success.  
"Who started the fight Liam?" Hassam asked solemnly, looking straight at his young protégé.  
"Well, I suppose that I did sir, but what else could I have done? You ordered me to train, and I really did need to, and I don't know anyone else at the palace."  
"Bow politely to them, just like you've been taught to, walk away and let me sort it out. That fight needn't have happened at all. You just dishonoured a man, no doubt a kind, loyal soldier, at the price of a single training session. Liam, what does the Law tell us about the reasons for fighting?"  
"A Shang fights only when attacked, at the order of Mithros, at the order of a superior in the Shang brotherhood unless he knows this order to be misled, in defence of an innocent or helpless person or for the cause of good. He may also fight in a training or demonstration bout, but only having informed his opponent previously of his training and rank in Shang first. A Shang warrior kills only when necessary. A Shang's loyalty cannot be bought by coins but by a kind heart and a just one. He shall not fight on anyone's command if he feels the fight to be against his morals or personal honour," Liam recited dully from the dusty tome he'd been forced to memorise way back at the very beginning of his training at the camp.  
"That's enough, thank you Liam. And, having remembered all this, do you think your fight agrees with any of these causes in the slightest? Did you act with honour?"  
"No sir. I'm sorry, I'll apologise."  
"That is a start, and you will do that tomorrow. As penance for your actions, you will go to the Chapel of Mithros and pray that you can learn to control your temper better, because unless you do, you are lost to the brotherhood of Shang, and it would be a pity to waste your potential."  
"Yes sir." 


	11. Chapter 11

Liam paused for a moment to think about his master's reasoning, and genuinely concluded that he himself had been in the wrong. Having got this firmly fixed out in his mind, Liam was quite happy to do this penance. It would give him a chance to get all of the changes that had happened lately in his life straight in his mind, so that he wouldn't be likely to make the same mistake again.  
  
He silently removed his boots, noting that he badly needed to wash since the smell of his feet alone was enough to knock out an entire tribe of Bazhir horsemen, not known themselves for cleanliness. Changing into a thin shirt and breeches, he went down to the chapel and meditated as he'd been taught when he'd been a small boy.  
  
He thought about his ambitions, for despite the Shang laws he wasn't without pride or aims. He thought about his reasons for wanting to become a Shang, and how they'd changed over the years. He vowed to himself to think before fighting so that nothing like this would ever happen again if he could help it. At last, after long hours of thought, he felt truly at peace with himself once more.  
  
Liam got up to leave.  
"I will be a true Shang," he whispered, saluting the altar in respect. "I must learn when to fight and to control my temper. I swear I'll try my best to master it."  
"But will you keep to this resolution, my son?" a booming voice thundered from behind him. Liam spun automatically into a defensive crouch at the sound of a strange voice. He looked up and saw an armoured man, glowing brightly with a golden light. Eyes wide as saucers, he thudded heavily to his knees, dropping his eyes before the Immortal.  
  
He took a deep breath, knowing that this oath, unlike his other one, he knew was being witnessed by a far higher authority than his Shang masters, a priest or himself.  
"I will, Master, as long as there is breath in my body."  
"And will you protect the weak, the wronged and all those who need your help under any circumstances."  
"Yes Master," Liam replied with conviction, recognising the words from the Book of Mithros, from which all of the Shang Laws had been taken. "If it cost me my life, I will."  
"Then know that I will always be with you in your heart, watching over your endeavours. Now, go and learn, little one, and become a warrior I can be proud of."  
"Yes Master, thank you."  
  
Liam bowed his head again - his eyes had somehow been drawn upwards in the same way that a mouse would freeze when faced with an owl. It might not be sensible, but it was nature. As a rapidly brightening light flared and radiated from the god, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Then there was dark once more in the shadowy chapel and Liam cautiously opened his eyes, blinking away the purple afterimages. Solemnly, he took the knife lying, as always, on the altar for use in rituals, and carefully cut his hand, letting blood drip onto the altar.  
"I will honour my oath, Master," he swore. "By this blood, I swear my hand, my body and my heart in service to the Law, be it in my interests or not to follow it. I am your slave as long as you have need of me, until my dying day if you allow me."  
  
Ritual completed, he turned and stopped, blinking in confusion. A black kitten was lying curled up on the floor, apparently asleep although Liam had his doubts. He scooped him up with ease, tucking him in the crook of his arm.  
"Come on then, little one, 'tis much warmer in our rooms. I'll call you Faithful, I think, to remind me to be faithful to my vows." The cat yawned and opened eyes of the same startling violet-purple as his own.  
"Holy Mithros! Still, maybe the god sent you and it's a sign. You're staying with me anyway, holy or not. I just hope Hassam likes cats."  
  
Liam pushed open the chapel door with his foot, and early morning sunlight streamed in. He found his way back to their chambers with relative ease. Hassam was there and Prince Jerlan sitting next to him. They looked over from where they were talking as he came in with Faithful in his arms.  
  
Hassam smiled.  
"Done Liam?" he asked.  
"Yes sir."  
"Where did the cat come from?"  
"He was in the chapel sir. I thought I'd keep him and call him Faithful, to remind me of my promises. Maybe it'll help me to stick to the Law better."  
  
Hassam stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief. Liam looked at him curiously; so did the prince. Neither of them had a clue what had caused this reaction.  
"What's the matter?" the prince demanded. "It's only a mangy cat."  
"Liam," Hassam asked urgently, sounding as though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. "Is there anything odd about this cat, other than him being in the chapel?"  
"Well, not really odd sir. His eyes are a bit strange - they're purple like mine, and that's okay for cats, I think. There's nothing else though."  
"What have I let myself in for?" Hassam groaned, putting his head in his hands with a show of dramatics that would have horrified the Yamanis they were staying with. "I have it on good authority that the cat you are holding died over twenty years ago! He's the only purple-eyed cat I've ever seen."  
  
Faithful looked up from where he was industriously licking his paw and fixed his gaze on the man until the Shang looked away from him uncomfortably.  
"What cat?" Jerlan asked.  
"Let's see. I was about three when Liam's mother came to our tribe for the first time, it caused quite a stir. I can just about remember it, and what I can't remember, I've been told. She came with a soldier, Coram Smythesson, and a black, purple eyed cat called Faithful. She said that the Great Mother Goddess had given him to her. He was killed at the same time as your namesake, Liam, the last Liam Ironarm, at King Jonathan's coronation. You've been chosen by the gods, son, and I'm committed to teaching you for another three years at the very least, and quite likely more!"  
"Chosen by the gods? Me?"  
"Yes, I'm afraid so. Poor me."  
"This is all very well, Hassam," Jerlan interrupted. "But now, will you teach me?"  
"Very well Highness. Er, do you have anything slightly more practical that you could wear. I fear that those clothes wouldn't last long in a proper practice session such as I'd be giving you and Liam if you wish."  
"No, why should I have peasant clothes in my possession?"  
"Borrow some of my clothes then. Actually, apart from the colour, they're very similar to those worn by the Tortallan knights to train in. Liam, change yourself and guide his Highness down to the practice courts when he's ready. I know that you are familiar with the way."  
"Yes Hassam," Liam agreed, flushing slightly.  
"You may go," Prince Jerlan told him imperiously.  
  
Liam changed quickly with the ease of long practice into training clothes and, after helping the prince, took Jerlan down to the practice court. Hassam was there, talking to one of the Yamani soldiers whom Liam vaguely recognised.  
"Hassam, come here," the prince ordered. The Shang warrior rolled his eyes at the Yamani soldier, who smiled faintly, and came over.  
"Teach me."  
"I can't just teach you, Highness. First we have to warm up properly, else its likely that we'll pull muscles and that can stop training for a while - not advisable if you want to become a successful warrior."  
"Warming up is for small children like him. I am far too old for that kind of nonsense - it's the sort of thing a baby tutor tells you to do when you first start. I am an experienced warrior myself, after all, I've been training for four years now."  
"And Liam, the 'small child,' has been training hard for the past seven years and I believe he did some work for an additional three years before that."  
"So? The fact remains that he is a very small child and cannot hope to compete with me in strength or experience."  
  
Liam groaned, but began to grin as he heard a whisper in his mind,  
"Go on, my son." That was all it took; he let loose his formidable temper, already irritated with the youth.  
"Who are you calling a child?"  
"Why, you of course, boy."  
"Just because you're what, three years older? You're as much a child as me, more so because you're a spoilt, petty, sheltered brat of a princeling who's never done an honest day's work in his life, let alone the past year."  
  
Hassam smiled openly at that. Prince Jerlan of Tyra flushed bright red, unaccustomed to anyone ever daring to speak back to him in such an impertinent way.  
"You silly, uneducated, common brat!"  
"Useless popinjay! Anyway, I'm probably better educated than you and I'm certainly nobler! My family's in the Book of Gold, yours is only in the Book of Silver!"  
"Come on then, I'll thrash you in a grown up duel to teach you to mind your manners when speaking to your betters!"  
"Fine," Liam replied sweetly. "But of course, we can only do that once we've warmed up. I'm a small child, remember, and I need to be set a good example, at least until I'm old enough to do without, which is unlikely to be ever." "Hmph! Okay," Jerlan sighed, realising that he'd been outmanoeuvred with great skill. Then he snapped at Hassam. "What are you smiling at?"  
"Oh, nothing Highness, shall we begin?"  
  
After grudgingly warming up, Liam fenced with the prince. Soon he bowed ironically and helped Jerlan to his feet.  
"Teach me Hassam," the prince said pleadingly. Then he added grudgingly, "please." Hassam smiled - the arrogant prince was at last learning manners. 


	12. Chapter 12

Over the next year, Liam learned new weapons with the enthusiasm for training that had marked him from the start and impressed even the Yamanis. Their weaponsmaster had been honoured to train him with the naginata or glaive, and the scimitar.  
  
One of the new additions to his training was his training expeditions with the Yamani samurai, which were gruelling, especially for a boy of his age, but very good for his general fitness and taught him many things about living off the land. Hassam took him on tours around the other Yamani islands and villages so that he could meet and help the common folk of that land and not get embroiled in the politics of the palace and forget what his real task was.  
  
It took time, but gradually the prince managed to deflate his considerable ego and become firm friends with Liam to such an extent that the younger boy was almost sorry to leave him behind when they had returned him safely to his father. The King of Tyra was, needless to say, very pleased with the improvement and sent generous donations to the Shang training camp when Hassam refused to accept rewards himself.  
  
After departing again from Tyra, Liam and Hassam travelled through Sarain, fighting the many bandits living there and helping to guard the poor villages and farms that were at the mercy of such men. That taught Liam many things, one of which was that you couldn't expect your enemy to be fair or follow the rules. It was also his first real combat experience and he got through it with flying colours, never fighting without real need but also never showing any remorse at killing when necessary.  
  
It was when Liam turned sixteen, three years after he'd left the security of the training camp, that Hassam decided it was time for him to return again to the camp. He was, to the best of his master's judgement, as good as most adult Shang masters and lacking only the experience that comes with age. It was a very young age for a student's return, but then, the man contemplated, Liam had never been a very normal boy. He'd known that for a long time. Anyone with Mithros's eye on him was going to be either an exceptional warrior or dead in a ditch within six months.  
  
As they walked back in through the yard on their way to the mess hall, Liam was hit by what appeared to be a miniature whirlwind. Liam dropped his pack and pried it off.  
"Liam? It's you, isn't it? You're back! Are you taking your ordeal? You're miles taller."  
"Hello Martin," Liam said, grinning indulgently at this outpour. "Nice to see you too. Gosh, you've grown too. Yes, that's hopefully why I'm here. You must be, what, thirteen now? So you'll be leaving soon yourself. It's about time, you must be sick of it. It's only a shame I'll be too inexperienced to take you out, but I promise I'll put in a good word for you."  
  
That was all it took before Martin pulled up the pack, struggling with the weight.  
"Sorry Martin, I'd better take that," Liam said. The boy struggled to show his disappointment, but recovered quickly and pulled his friend inside after Hassam.  
  
The very next day, after a good night's sleep and a well-needed bath, Liam appeared before a specially convened council of warriors for the first step in the process of become a Master of the Shang Brotherhood. Hassam led him in, his dark face very stern and solemn but his eyes twinkling with pride.  
"By what right to you come before us?" one Shang demanded of him.  
"By the right of brotherhood, for I am the Eagle of Shang, as all here know."  
"Your right to stand here before us is recognised, Eagle Warrior. You may speak."  
"Praise be to Mithros, for I present to you my student, Liam Ironarm. He has attained his sixteenth year on this earth and is ready in all ways to gain his true name and take his place among us as an equal and a warrior."  
"Liam Ironarm," the strange Shang said, seeming to notice him for the first time. "Is it your wish that you be adopted into the fellowship of Shang?"  
"Yes sir, it is."  
"Do you believe that you are ready for this great honour and are ready to stand before Mithros, he who knows all deeds, and request it of him."  
"Yes sir, on my life and honour."  
"You may commence your warrior trials with our blessing, Ironarm. May Mithros be with you and strengthen your arm. They will begin tomorrow. Do you willingly agree to students watching these trials, this is your choice?"  
"Thank you sir. If it is believed to be educational for them sir, I have no objection."  
"Mithros's strength to you, Ironarm."  
"And to you, sir."  
  
That was it, he was no longer a boy. The very next day he would begin his physical trials. He would be called on to demonstrate his abilities with all weapons against the very cream of the seasoned Shang warriors, one on one in combat. He would have to fight outnumbered and handicapped. Then, that evening if he survived, he would make his final vows, assuming that he did well enough that the Shang masters would accept him. None of the students knew exactly what that final oath taking entailed, but Liam was confident that he'd manage it. 


	13. Chapter 13

The next day dawned sunny and cloudless, the sky a turquoise blue. Liam was dressed in the simple, plain white tunic of a candidate and stepped barefoot into the yard. He was hugged and wished luck by all of the trainees he'd known from his time at the camp, and watched in awe by the newcomers. It had been known for candidates to die under testing, so it was a solemn occasion. They would all be watching his trials in the hope that they'd learn from the experience.  
  
Liam soared easily through the fights, gaining confidence with each successive one as he defeated one after another of the masked warriors. It was important that his opponents were strangers to him so he couldn't anticipate their style.  
  
The final fight was to be freestyle - totally without any rules, where any move, dirty or not, was allowed. Liam was unarmed, but he could use anything he could lay his hands on to help him. It was this test that he'd trained the most for with Hassam in their last year of wanderings.  
  
After a swig of cool water at the edge of the roped off area, Liam took his place in the late afternoon sunlight. He was a bit tired, who wouldn't be after fighting almost solidly all morning, but confident that he had enough energy left to keep going throughout the fight to the best of his ability.  
  
His opponent wore black. He also had a plain black mask and there was nothing in his garb to suggest his status in the ranks of Shang. He was tall and muscular, that Liam could see, taking his place on the far side with an air of controlled power, like that of one of the giant cats. Liam quickly weighed up his chances in a straight fight. This man would be senior, certainly, possibly even of Legendary rank, while Liam was small, slender and relatively inexperienced. He was also tired from his previous fights. No, an unorthodox method would no doubt be more successful.  
  
The judge brought his arm down to signify the beginning of the fight and sprinted for the relative safety of the mess hall. He was a full Shang warrior himself, but he wasn't participating in this trial, and in this event in particular, bystanders had been known to be hurt. Liam ran too, hurdling the rope surrounding the fighting square and vaulting easily onto a barracks roof. His opponent followed, and Liam led him around the rooftops, jumping from roof to roof, getting gradually higher as he did so.  
  
At last, with a lead of about ten metres, he jumped off the roof, spun in the air and hung, suspended by his fingertips from a second floor windowsill. Needless to say, this wasn't a standard Shang technique, it was something Liam's father had taught him when he'd been a little kid back home in Tortall.  
  
The man jumped after him, landing lightly on the ground in a fighting crouch and looking quickly around for him. Then Liam dropped, gently hitting the man's neck as he landed. Full powered, such a blow would have disabled him. The fight was over. People poured out from the buildings to congratulate him.  
  
Liam saluted his opponent as he was ushered away. Hassam laid an approving hand on his shoulder.  
"That was the Shang Griffin, you know."  
"What?" Liam asked, amazed. "How can you tell? He was masked, just like everyone else. The only one I recognised was you - don't they know that you're useless with a scimitar?"  
"Yes they know, but no one else is any better than me. Its not one of the standard weapons. As for the Griffin, with that beak of a nose still showing, what do you think? Of course, he's old for a Legendary now - in his forties, I think. You were marvellous. Come on, let's get you fed before you go to the chapel."  
  
After a light meal, Liam put on a fresh tunic, his other one was sweat- soaked now, and was taken to the Chapel of Mithros by Hassam. There was an orange robed Mithran priest there, with the Rat (the current Training Master) and the Shang Griffin. Hassam was right - his nose was rather prominent.  
"Liam Cooper, you have come before use to become a warrior of Shang, in service to Mithros," the priest-mage intoned. "You have passed the tests that were set before you and proved yourself worthy in the fighting arts. . ."  
"Worthy indeed," interrupted the booming voice of Mithros from the golden statue in the centre. They all turned to see it flex and turn into the living god, who stepped forwards off the pedestal. "Many thanks, Faithful, you have guided him admirably and have the gratitude of the Greater Gods."  
  
The small, black cat, not one to be constrained by any human rules, vanished from his place at Liam's feet, where he had sat having followed the youth in. The priest mage was staring at the god, shocked, but the Griffin was smiling broadly.  
"Greetings, master," he said.  
"And to you, my warrior. You have done well, and your work is almost done. You will soon have time to rest."  
"Thank you master."  
"Now, my son, take my hand."  
  
Liam shakily put forwards a trembling hand to be enfolded in Mithros's giant hand of gold.  
"Do you swear to uphold goodness and justice in all you do, to educate those true of heart who wish to learn and to defy evil and chaos in all its forms?"  
"Master, I do," Liam said, mentally forcing himself into the formal mode of speech.  
"Then go forth and fight for me, my warrior."  
  
Mithros gravely inclined his head to the other three, having completely cut out their parts in the ritual, and the statue stepped backwards and became lifeless once more. Liam was mentally reeling, awed by the experience.  
"That was Mithros himself!" the mage exclaimed, completely taken aback.  
"I thought he might come after a I saw you fight, youngster," the Griffin said gravely. He sounded respectful, but not worshipful. Maybe the elite of Shang had a closer relationship with the god that most mortals. "Hold out your hand."  
  
Liam extended it and Hassam, the Griffin and the Rat examined it carefully.  
"You were right, Jasham," the Rat said, sounding very proud. "Well done Liam."  
"What?" Liam said and looked at his hand himself. On the palm was a golden dragon. Prodding it experimentally, he discovered that it felt no different to the rest of his hand, to touch or as part of him. It did feel slightly warm, however.  
"Does this mean. . ."  
"Yes lad," Hassam said, beaming. "Shang Dragon. Come one, let's go and announce it. They'll all be dying to hear how you've done after that fight."  
  
The rest of the Training Camp was waiting impatiently for them in the mess hall. Liam walked down the centre aisle between the Rat and the Griffin, Hassam following behind. They stopped at the very far end and turned.  
"Liam Cooper has been accepted by Mithros as a warrior of Shang. He is the chosen of Mithros, the Shang Dragon!"  
  
There was an instant uproar. Students who had known Liam were cheering loudly; others talked in amazement. A few of the masters were nodding in satisfaction, as if their guesses had been proved correct. Liam himself could hardly believe it. He was supposedly the very best of the elite of Shang, the best warrior since the death of his namesake, the last Dragon. 


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Sorry this is short, but its rather hectic at the moment (choir concerts, orchestra concerts etc). I won't be updating for a couple of weeks cos I'm away on a Berlin exchange, but I have NOT ABANDONED THIS STORY, so keep with me.  
  
Hassam left with Martin the next day, now that he was thirteen. The Eagle did not like people fawning over him because of his abilities, and was much happier on the open road. They were planning to join Prince Jerlan, picking him up in Tyra. The prince was now going to Tortall.  
  
Liam planned to go to Corus too, but wanted first to visit the Bazhir in the Southern Desert. The day after they'd departed, he shouldered his pack once more and set out along the familiar trail.  
  
It was somewhat odd to be travelling completely alone, when he was used to being constantly in the company of Hassam or Prince Jerlan, but Liam was perfectly happy with the dusty road under his feet and the freedom to go wherever he chose. Liam skirted the city of Tyra and continued up along the Great Road South.  
  
After days of trekking through featureless desert, he arrived at the place where the camp of the Bloody Hawk tribe was supposedly located. A sentry stopped him as he approached.  
  
"I'm the Shang Dragon," Liam told him. "If this is the tribe of the Bloody Hawk, I have messages for you from my former master, Hassam the Eagle."  
"Then you are welcome in our tribe warrior. It has been long since he came this way. Come, I will take you to our headman, Halef Seif."  
  
Liam was led past tents of curious tribemen to the larger tent where Halef Seif lived. The young sentry put his head through the loose tent flap and announced him.  
"A Shang warrior is here, Halef Seif. He has messages for us from Hassam."  
"That's good, show him in."  
  
Liam came in, dumped his pack informally on the floor and pushed back the large hood of his burnoose with relief, now that he was out of the sand for a while. The old headman smiled.  
"You are the youngest son of the Woman Who Rides Like A Man, are you not? The one who went to be trained as a Shang like our brother, Hassam."  
"Aye," Liam affirmed. He held out his hand, palm up, to confirm his status. "Here, these are from Hassam. He's well and is travelling at the moment to Corus with the Crown Prince of Tyra. He hopes to come here in a year with his present apprentice."  
"Thank you Dragon. Will you stay the night with us? It would be an honour."  
  
Liam thought about it.  
"I can only stay for a few days, thank you. I'm going to Corus too, but I've only just gained my Shang rank, and wanted to travel alone for a bit while I decide if I actually deserve it."  
"That is understandable, you have great responsibility for one of your age. You're sixteen aren't you?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Come, there is a place you can have in the shamans' tent. They will be happy to have you."  
"Thank you."  
"Its only your due, you are a member of the tribe, through your mother."  
  
When they reached the large tent, a woman met them at the entrance. Her eyes narrowed contemplatively as she looked at Liam  
"Halef Seif," she greeted them," Liam of Shang."  
"This is Kourrem," Halef told him. "She is head shaman of the Bloody Hawk."  
"I am honoured to meet you, learned one," Liam said, bowing, "but how did you know my name?"  
"How many Shang warriors do you think there can be with copper hair and purple hair just like the Woman Who Rides Like A Man's? I remembered what you looked like from when I last saw you, with your mother."  
"I've been here before?" Liam asked, racking his memory.  
"You were very small then, two maybe," she reassured him. 


	15. Chapter 15

It was early the next morning when Liam left the tribe, having stayed up late the previous night, sitting around the campfire with the men of the tribe and listening to stories about his mother's time riding with the Bloody Hawk. They asked him to bring their greetings to those members of the tribe who were serving with the King's Own, a force that seemed to have many Bazhir members as well as the young noblemen it traditionally contained.  
  
Before Liam left, he asked Kourrem, as the shaman of the tribe, to put a strong illusion on him to hide his telltale features. It wasn't that he was ashamed of them, but they were very unusually and would attract a lot of notice, especially in Tortall, where Alanna the Lioness was one of the most popular modern heroes.  
  
With a little guidance from the tribe sentries, he found the road again and continued along it, past Persopolis, the only Bazhir city, and into the green fields of the hill country. He now truly felt that he was coming home. The Bazhir desert, while technically a part of Tortall, was in reality a very different place and not all of the tribes kept their allegiance to King Jonathan as ruler of Tortall.  
  
A few days later, almost an hour's brisk walk from Corus itself, Liam paused on a hill in a clearing in the Royal Forest to gaze at the idyllic view spread out before him. A quiet rustle, that only a trained Shang would notice as out of place, caused him to spin automatically into a fighting crouch.  
  
He was only just in time, as men poured out from the undergrowth. From their dress, they were merely a band of common robbers, driven by hunger to attack solitary travellers, but even they could kill him with their numbers.  
  
Liam despatched the first quickly, and pressed grimly on with the slaughter. The only way he, without a horse, would be able to escape, would be by killing them all, or by killing enough of them to scare the others away.  
  
Arrows flew at him from the trees as he wove and spun in the fray. One hit him solidly in the shoulder. Liam yelled in pain and leapt at the archer, who was unwisely standing close to the combat. Soon, bleeding from freely from his wound, he was the only one left alive, and staggered on along the road to the city, praying that he would reach help before he died.  
  
It was a while later when two horsemen came past. They stopped when they saw him. He was truly a sorry sight, as his makeshift bandage, hastily applied one handed, had long since fallen off and he was lying in the dust of the road, unconscious and covered in blood.  
  
The knight leapt from his horse and dropped to his knees beside the unconscious youth.  
"Alan, fetch the bandages from my saddlebags. We'll have to take him into Corus with us, if he survives."  
  
The other man, who appeared, at about nineteen, a few years younger than his master, fetched them hastily and together they managed to stop the bleeding. Liam stirred sluggishly from his stupor.  
"Who are you?" Alan asked urgently. "Who are you looking for? Who are you from?"  
  
"Cooper," Liam managed to groan before slumping again. Alan looked startled.  
"We'd better take him to Grandfather, and fast!" he said, forgetting for the moment his lowly status as a squire. "He might have important information."  
"You're probably right. Take his pack and help me lift him up in front of me. He doesn't look heavy enough to burden Hunter."  
  
Together, the pair brought Liam to the town house of Sir Myles of Olau, the King's spymaster and the generally acknowledged court drunk and, by adoption and marriage, Alan's grandfather.  
"Grandfather!" Alan called, after they'd been admitted by a silent servant. "We found a man on the road, hurt badly! All he managed to say was Cooper!"  
  
Myles came out of his study at a run and took one look at them.  
"Take him upstairs quickly Faleron," he ordered. "Alan, run and fetch Eleni now! This poor lad isn't one of mine, but he's plucky enough be all accounts. He might be a messenger from your father."  
  
Myles's wife, a healer, joined them hastily. She laid gentle, skilful hands on the wound and frowned, looking up at the others.  
"He's bound in an illusion spell, a strong one. I'll have to break it before I can heal him. Alan, I'll need your help."  
  
Alan placed his hands over hers, allowing her to draw from his strength and his gift. With a surge of power, the illusion broke, and Liam reverted to his normal appearance. Myles looked him over carefully and chuckled.  
"Silly boy, Alan. He wasn't saying your father's name; he was saying his own. There's only one person I'd expect to look like this and arrive in this sort of condition, and that's young Liam. He obviously takes after your mother."  
  
Alan stared at him.  
"Liam? But we haven't heard from him in years, not since he went to Shang!"  
"I know that's where he went, look at his hand if you don't believe me. The Shang mark their own, when they come to the mastery. He's good, Alan, or he wouldn't have that, possibly even better than your mother in her extreme youth, and she was famous world-wide for her sword work. I just wonder how many he was up against to come to us like this."  
  
At last, Eleni finished and came out of her healing trance. She sat down heavily into the closest chair. The healing had taken many hours. Sir Faleron had ridden out again along the road in search of evidence, and had returned looking stunned. He announced the total body count as thirty-one. Thirty-one men, and Liam had, completely alone, killed them all in one day.  
  
It was the next day before Liam stirred. He opened his eyes to see Sir Myles looking jubilantly down on him, not having left his bedside throughout his unconsciousness.  
"Grandpapa?" he said drowsily. "How'd I get here?"  
"Your brother found you, little one. How are you feeling now?"  
"Hungry. Can I get up? I was due at court the day I was in the fight - what day is this anyway? The others will be worried about me if I'm late."  
  
Myles smiled at him.  
"Don't worry Liam, that was only yesterday. I'm sure they'll know that you're okay and you can fend for yourself, else you wouldn't be Shang, would you now? I'll send them a message if you want. I take it you want to surprise everyone with your arrival? So, the message will be private. You youngsters. All right, you may go to court tomorrow, before you ask, so long as you spend today in bed. You know that healings make you tired, and you needed one. Your parents are arriving tomorrow too, so you'll be able to see them."  
"Thank you." 


	16. Chapter 16

The following evening, now pronounced just about well enough to leave his bed by Eleni, Liam found himself standing by the great double doors in the antechamber leading to the throne room of King Jonathan of Tortall. He pulled the collar of his velvet emerald-green tunic into place and stepped up to the herald. The man's eyes widened as Liam gave him his name and title. He'd waited this late to arrive so that he knew that everyone else, or at least, all the important nobles, would be in the ball already.  
  
"Liam Ironarm," the herald announced loudly to the assembled nobility, "Immortal Dragon Master of Shang!"  
  
The hall fell silent, and the gathered nobles turned as one to face the doors, gathering instinctively along the thin red carpet leading up to the throne. They were all curious as to who this man was, many of them were remembering the last Dragon of Shang to grace their halls.  
  
Liam, standing motionless for a moment in the centre of the doorway, could see Alan, his brother, and Faleron in the crowd, grinning broadly at all the excitement. He gulped, took a deep breath and began the long walk to the throne with a slow stride which he had learned at the Yamani court. Given his present status, he was very lucky he'd been such an apt study.  
  
He stopped at the bottom of the three steps up to where King Jonathan was sitting and saluted smartly, impeccably in the Shang style. Then he stood there, looking at him, leader to leader, just as his grandfather had told him should. This - supposedly - was to establish his status as an equal, but a guest. Liam himself didn't have a clue if it was having the desired effect, but knew that Myles of Olau was an old hand at court procedures.  
  
"Welcome to our court, Liam Ironarm," the king said gravely, meeting the purple eyes raised to him unflinchingly, with a directness few dared faced with such strangeness. He was smiling, proud perhaps, at being the first court that the new Shang master was visiting. "It is an honour to have you with us. I believe your parents and brothers are over by the windows."  
  
Liam inclined his head respectfully and melted into the crowd. Now he remembered - King Jonathan was a close friend of his parents, and he'd no doubt guessed the identity of his young guest - it was hardly difficult. It also explained the sparkle in his piercing blue eyes.  
  
He could feel his hands shaking as he walked through a crowd that parted to let him past. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. His thoughts were buzzing around uncontrollably in his head. What if his mother disapproved of his choice of name, or his father was upset at the lack of correspondence over the years? Alan grabbed him by the arm, startling him out of his thoughts.  
  
"Hey, don't look so worried, little brother. You look more worried about seeing all of us again than facing those bandits! You'll be fine. Come on, over here, they're waiting for you."  
  
He led Liam gently over to a window seat, where another young red headed man was talking earnestly to their parents. All three seemed engrossed in the conversation. Liam hung back, not wanting to interrupt, but Alan, blunt as he always seemed to be, propelled him directly into the middle of the small circle.  
  
"Hello everyone, I never knew you'd stirred yourself from the University for a mere ball Thom! Sorry I didn't see you earlier, but I was out with Sir Faleron, we had a few errands to run. This is Liam, but be careful with him, because the little idiot was in a fight, and didn't bind his wounds properly - he was only up against thirty or so bandits."  
  
Liam flushed and his family smiled indulgently, perhaps remembering times when they had done the same.  
  
"Welcome back, lad," George said, hugging him tightly. Liam responded awkwardly.  
  
"Liam Ironarm?" his mother said, seeming to approve. "You did it for him, didn't you? It's what he would have wanted, I'm sure. If only Alianne were back, this family would be all together for perhaps the first time. . . Its good to have you at last."  
  
Liam smiled, basking in their approval, and began to relax. He was back, he was accepted and he'd done well, with his whole life stretching out ahead of him. He would stay here for a while, then, as the Shang warriors do, he'd move on to the next place that needed his skills.  
  
A/N: Okay, that was it, the final chapter. No matter what you say, that was the end. I've tried in the past to write sequels, and find that they don't work unless I'd already thought about them, in which case I wouldn't have to be writing this. . . I give up. Anyway, if someone else wants to have a go at one, feel free, just ask me first. Now you've reached the end, please review and tell me what you thought about it. If you haven't read my other stuff, there are two other Tortall fanfics that I've written and you could check out if you liked this. Thanks for all your reviews and support.  
  
BlueGryphon 


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